


unravel me

by knifebunny



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Civilian Administrator Reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Masturbation, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Rating May Change, Reader-Insert, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knifebunny/pseuds/knifebunny
Summary: Stupid decisions. Stolen moments. Secret desires.You and Connor could afford to learn a thing or two from each other about deviancy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Work title inspired by the Sabrina Claudio song.]
> 
> Had the idea for this right after I finished my first playthrough of the game and I couldn't work on anything else until I finished it. I wrote this as a standalone piece with lots of room to expand into a full length fic if people are interested, hence the additional tags. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Friday night found you grinding up against the warm bodies of several strangers in the middle of the dance floor, the illuminated floor panels and old-fashioned disco ball making it look like you were dancing in an ocean of stars. God you loved this song, or at least you thought you did. The DJ was definitely experimenting with some fancy remix work as you tried to sloppily sing along to the promiscuous lyrics. 

There was a bubbly feeling in your stomach that should have been your first clue, but by the time your vision began to blur, it was already too late. The people around you had stopped moving as you squinted down at the dance floor. Jesus. Was it just the lights or was that glitter in your barf? You could barely hear the horrified shrieking of the stranger whose heels you had just ruined over the thumping bass of the music. 

“Oh my god, ____,” you heard that voice perfectly clear as one of your friends pulled you back towards the bathrooms. “You are so trashed.” 

You weren’t sure if you said anything in response, but you definitely nodded or at least, you could feel your head swinging enough to be interpreted as a nod. You were only in the bathroom long enough to rinse out your mouth and fix your lip gloss before you heard two sharp knocks on the door. 

“Fuck. Tell Angela I’m so sorry,” you cursed under your breath, before turning to give your friend a remorseful smile. 

“I doubt she’ll even remember tomorrow, and this club is so lame anyway. You’re lucky you’re getting out of here,” she said, even though you knew she would be staying. 

The night was still embarrassingly young when you were taken by your arm and gently nudged towards the entrance of the club by one of its burly bouncers. Your small group of friends watched uselessly as you were handed your clutch and coat by a smiling android, who was kind enough to help you put it on before you were banished to the elements. 

“Cute dress,” you commented over the stern “you need to leave” and “c’mon, party’s over” from the bouncer. 

The android’s hearing must have picked up your compliment because her LED blinked yellow before she smiled softly and said thank you instead of goodbye. 

If puking wasn’t enough to sober you up, a Detroit winter night certainly did. You had to walk by the dozens of those still waiting in line to get into Endless Galaxy. God what a pretentious name for such a trashy club, you thought bitterly as you shivered and hugged yourself. Your heels clicked against the sidewalk as you made your way to...nowhere, anywhere. You hadn’t quite decided yet. There was a perfectly good clock right above you on the scrolling marquee of a storefront, but you clicked your clutch open to check your phone anyway. 

You let out another curse when you read the time. It wasn’t even midnight yet. This was embarrassing...and sloppy on your part. It was one thing to be kicked out of a club, but it was going to be hard to wear that as a badge of honor when you had gotten the boot only ten minutes after arriving. You supposed there had to be a record somewhere that you had just broken. 

You were chuckling to yourself when you felt a car pull up on the curb next to you. Your instincts told you to back away and go into fight-or-flight mode, but the tinted window of the taxi lowered to reveal a familiar smiling face. 

“Connor?” you called out, crossing your arms over your chest as you approached the car. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was in the area when I saw you walking,” he explained. “Hank and the others sent me on a mission...for coffee. They insisted on this particular location.” 

You rolled your eyes, an amused smile tugging at your lips. Of course, they had. You could feel his eyes following, scanning you as you leaned against the open window, elbows over the frame. 

“Late night?” you asked. 

“Yes, there are several reports to file from the last red ice lab we found,” he explained, a hint of exasperation evident in his voice. “I told Hank that if he kept putting it off, it was going to pile up.” 

“Jeez, Fowler better be giving you guys overtime.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not on their payroll,” he replied cheekily. “What about you? Didn’t you say you had plans tonight?” 

“I did….” you trailed off, shifting your weight around to ease the tension from your heels. “They were kind of cut short.” 

“Your blood-alcohol concentration is almost at the legal limit, and…” he paused, tilting his head slightly. “I’m getting traces of vomit near your mouth?” 

Your hand flew to the corner of your lips, frowning at him. “Connor, you seriously have to warn people before you scan them.” 

“Sorry, I thought you would want to know,” he apologized sincerely. “____, are you ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just pre-gamed a little too hard,” you shrugged. "I got it all out of my system...I think." 

“You’re starting to remind me of Hank. I can see why the two of you get along.” 

“Hardly,” you snorted with a fond smile as you thought of the cranky veteran lieutenant. “He only keeps me around so I can teach him how to use his phone.” 

"That's not true. He likes getting lunch with you because then he wouldn't be the only one eating," he pointed out.

"Touche." 

The two of you stole a moment to take in the other, you with your pink wool coat and black sequined dress and him in his neatly pressed grey blazer, textured tie, and dark jeans. He always looked so polished and professional. You couldn't help but wonder what he might look like underneath it all, his artificial skin pressed up against yours. A soft ping from the automated cab snapped you both out of your thoughts, and you could have sworn you saw a flash of red on Connor's LED before it blinked back to blue. 

"Connor, you are point five miles from your destination, Little Bean Coffee Brewery. Would you like to resume your trip or end your fare?" asked the robotic voice from the cab's dashboard, its words transcribed on the windshield.

"End fare," he said to your surprise, allowing you to step back as the doors swung open automatically. 

The screen faded into a map of the surrounding area with a blue line from the DPD central station to this very spot. "Please confirm payment," said the cab's voice. 

"Payment confirmed." 

"You're going to the Little Bean? That's not that far from here," you said. "We could walk the rest of the way." 

"We?" he inquired. "I was under the impression you were returning home. I was going to offer you my cab."

The doors swung open wider, awaiting its next passenger. You stared into the warm cabin and part of you wanted to take him up on that offer and sink into those memory foam, heated seats, but the other part of you refused to give up on such a nice night. The forecast said it wasn't going to snow until next week and you wanted to take advantage of it. Sure, Connor wasn't your friend's bachelorette party, but you weren't all that interested in the itinerary for that anyway. 

"That's really sweet of you, but I actually don't feel like going home yet," you said, reaching past him to press the button on the window. "Besides, I could use some coffee right now." 

“You know, you could slip on ice with those shoes,” he warned, glancing down at your heels.

“That’s all this night is missing to be complete, really, me falling on my ass,” you snorted with a giggle.

You both watched as the cab thanked no one and safely pulled into traffic, on the hunt for its next customer. You jerked your head in the direction of the coffee shop. "I’ll be fine. C'mon, it's this way right?" 

“Actually, it’s this way,” he corrected you, pointing across the street. 

“Of course,” you conceded, waiting until he was at your side to begin your little stroll. 

It didn’t take more than a few steps for his warning to come true as the ball of your foot stepped into a puddle of black ice. The soles of your heels were essentially useless for this kind of weather. Just as gravity was about to have its way with you, you felt a strong arm grab on to yours. You were practically in a sitting position just above the sidewalk, your ends of your coat dangling on top of the concrete before Connor hauled you to your feet in one smooth motion. 

“I told you,” smirked Connor triumphantly, still holding on to your arm, as if he was worried you were going to fall again as soon as he let go. 

“But I didn’t fall.” 

“Because I caught you.” 

“Technicalities.” You waved them away with a swish of your other hand, but Connor offered his elbow anyway. 

He made it so easy to swallow your pride as you held on to him for balance. With Connor, it was always the little things, like how he made sure he was walking on the side closest to the street and how he watched your stride and fixed his to match it. Hank was always so tight-lipped about himself and his personal life, but was surprisingly liberal about Connor's. 

He was the one who cracked the location of Jericho, and he was the one who helped Markus liberate thousands of androids at Cyberlife. He was also the one who saved Hank's life on several occasions by sacrificing his own. He was inhumanly strong, fast, and had a near-unlimited wealth of knowledge at his fingertips that was accessible by mere thought and whim. It only made sense that he was beautiful too, in a baby-faced, boy-next-door kind of way. Life was just unbelievably unfair like that sometimes. 

“You know they’re just messing with you, right?” you said just to break the silence. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Connor, all of the baristas are androids and they all prepare the drinks the same way. There’s literally no difference between the Little Bean down the street from the station and the one we’re going to. It’s a franchise.” 

“I knew that.” The LED on his temple was spinning yellow as he processed this shocking revelation. You just kept your eyes ahead of you as you watched cars roll by.

“Everyone knows that Little Bean was one of the first coffee franchises in the country to switch to android baristas,” he recited. 

But as you waited to cross the street, he looked down at you, shivering slightly from the cold as you huddled closer into your soft pink coat. He suspected that you had chosen it purely for aesthetics since a quick analysis of the material told him that it didn’t provide much insulation. At least the alcohol in your system was able to warm you up a little. 

“But that doesn’t explain why you think they’re messing with me. I thought I had finally gained the trust of everyone in the precinct...well, almost everyone.” 

No, things hadn’t changed much in the DPD since the Android Rights Movement of 2036. The biggest change was probably you. Fowler had hired you on as the new civilian administrator, a position that hadn’t been filled in decades but became absolutely necessary once new cases began to flood in while Connor had stayed on to assist with the more difficult investigations. There was some resistance to your presence at first, especially from the detectives, but you didn’t pay them any mind. They quickly learned your value when you became the last line of defense between nagging and complaining civilians and an avid deflector of unnecessary paperwork. 

“No, you sweet goof, they’re doing this _because_ they like you,” you paused, wondering how to best explain this unique phenomenon. “It’s a human thing. Sometimes we show our friends how much we care by gently bullying them.” 

“Gently bullying? That seems contradictory.” 

“It most definitely is and it makes no sense. Like, sometimes I’ll call my best friend a bitch, but I don’t really _mean_ it.” 

“Does that mean I can call you a bitch too?” 

You gasped, the word somehow sounding so much more abrasive with his voice. “Connor, no--” 

But your dropped jaw soon closed when you saw the subtle smirk forming on his lips. Sneaky bastard. “Wow, you really are state-of-the-art.” 

“Naturally,” he smiled, looking very proud of himself. “I think I’m beginning to understand. Thank you, ____.” 

“You’re welcome.” It was hard not to catch that contagious smile. 

"Did you know that on Monday, January 12, it will be your one month anniversary of working at the DPD?" said Connor, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You blinked incredulously, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Seriously? A whole month?"

"Yes, exactly thirty days since you became our civilian administrator," he nodded. 

"Wow, time flies, huh?" you mused. "I can't believe I lasted a whole month." 

You had come a long way from interning at that beauty and lifestyle magazine. They did say that internship would open doors for you, but it seemed like you picked the wrong door and wound up in a basement. You didn’t fit in at the magazine because you were new and you didn’t fit in at the DPD because you weren’t a cop. At least one job wasn’t a form of glorified slavery and actually paid your bills. 

"Despite a few…missteps, I think you're doing a great job," he praised. "You adapt well to sudden changes and difficult situations, much better than I did when I first started." 

"You're still learning, Connor. We both are," you smiled, giving him a gentle touch on the arm, just above the glowing blue band on his sleeve. “And people aren’t expecting perfect out of you anymore.” 

“I suppose that’s another effect of deviancy: striving for perfection even though it’s impossible,” he noted thoughtfully. 

“That’s the difference between me and you,” you laughed. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m just going through the motions, like I’m just trying to make it to the next day.” 

“I know it’s not my place, but if I may?” 

He halted his footsteps and you weren’t sure if it was because you had arrived at your destination or if he really wanted you to hear what he had to say. Either way, he had your attention and how could he not? That one stray bit of his hair was dangling in front of his face and he was looking at you with those warm brown eyes. 

“Shoot.” 

“I think you should give yourself more credit. You’re more than capable at what you do, and you’re an invaluable member of the precinct.”

You chuckled at his sincerity, which puzzled him. “Is that really how you see me? Invaluable?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I really enjoy working with you.” 

“Thanks, Connor,” you smiled. “I enjoy working with you too. You’re...a breath of fresh air.” 

“No one’s ever called me that before,” he noted with a smile. “I like it.” 

“You earned it, buddy,” you smirked, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go inside. I’m freezing my ass off.” 

Since it was nearly midnight, the Little Bean was practically deserted except for the two androids working behind the counter. They immediately perked up at the sight of customers and were quick to greet you. Since Connor had placed the order ahead of the time, the drinks were already prepared and placed into a cardboard carrier. You were glad you had decided to accompany Connor after all since it would have been a lot to carry by himself, android or not. 

“Which one is Gavin’s?” you asked, feigning curiosity. 

Connor peered at each cup, spinning the carriers around on the counter until he found the iced flat white that Gavin had requested. “That one.” 

Without missing a beat, you grabbed the clear plastic cup and lifted it from the carrier. You could feel his eyes on you with unparalleled scrutiny, as if this was some hidden teachable moment, but really, you just wanted to be a dick to someone who completely deserved it. 

“Watch this,” you smirked, raising the cup to Connor before you popped the lid off and tossed it carelessly aside. 

He watched in horror as you lifted the cup to your lips and began chugging the entire thing. 

“____! What are you doing?” cried Connor, reaching for the cup but you held out your arm to block him. He wasn’t trying very hard to stop you anyway, if the mischievous grin on his face was any indicator. The drink was pretty much gone by the time he realized what was happening, drained in a matter of seconds. 

You hadn’t lost a drinking contest since college and you didn’t intend to stop anytime soon. 

“He’s going to be so upset...” 

“I don’t give a shit. He always acts like such an asshole to you,” you shrugged, placing the empty cup back into its slot on the carrier. “And who orders an iced drink when it's twenty degrees outside?” 

"I'm still not quite sure how this is supposed to help." 

"It won't, but it'll be funny to watch him explode. Just tell him I did it and he’ll back off," you shrugged. 

"And why is that?" 

"Because he owes me like a million favors. He’d be up to his ass in civilian complaints if I didn’t diffuse half of them," you rolled your eyes. “All you have to do is keep being your adorable self, ok?" 

He sighed with exasperation as you reached up to straighten his tie and its accompanying metal clip. You tried to look up at him but his eyes were cast upwards at the ceiling but smiling nonetheless. You reached for one of the carriers and gestured to the door. 

“C’mon, let’s get a cab.” 

There was a sense of finality as the car finally pulled up to the steps of the precinct. You knew there was no reason to keep delaying the unfortunate inevitable. You were going to see Connor to the door, say your goodnights and not see him until Monday morning. His LED blinked as you both approached the sliding glass doors, authorizing the after hours entrance. You could already hear the griping and complaining of the detectives from the lobby as you handed him the second carrier of coffee. 

Hank looked up in surprise when Connor finally returned with you in tow. “____? What the hell are you doing here? Fowler send you to spy on us?” 

You snorted as you handed him his drink. “Hardly. I ran into Connor while he was on his coffee run. Seriously, guys? There’s a Little Bean down the street.” 

“Lay off, ____. He made it back in one piece, didn’t he?” smirked Gavin, before he realized what had happened. “What the fuck? Why is mine empty? Is this some kind of joke, Connor?” 

Connor merely shrugged, sharing a knowing smile with you from his desk. “____ got thirsty on the way back.” 

“You bitch,” grumbled Gavin. 

“That reminds me. I need to use the restroom before I go,” you chuckled. “Because I have a life. See you guys on Monday.” 

You received a few tired grunts in reply before you headed towards the restrooms. After seeing to your needs and fixing your makeup, you made your way back to the lobby at a sluggish pace. You were in no rush to go back out into the cold so you began scrolling through your phone on the way. Your friends’ social media was dominated by the bachelorette party and you watched as your friends clinked glasses together, danced to fast music, and received lap dances from the android strippers that the maid of honor had hired as a joke. It looked like an amazing time, all things considered. 

You waited for feelings of remorse or envy, but they never came. Maybe getting kicked out of that club was a blessing in disguise. From the corner of your eye, you could see Hank two seconds away from putting his fist through his terminal while Gavin’s screen was open to a blank form as he played on his phone, feet rested on the surface of his desk.

“Are you on your way out, ____?” 

There was a loud clatter as your phone jolted out of your hands and onto the floor. You watched as Connor bent down to put it up. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologized, holding your phone out to you, your star-shaped charm dangling between his slender fingers. 

“It’s ok,” you smiled. “And yeah, I was just about to leave.” 

“That’s a shame. I enjoyed our brief interlude,” he returned your smile with a wistful one of his own. 

“Me too,” you nodded, holding your phone with both hands. “Y’know, we really do need to hang out more.” 

“I completely agree. Exploring this friendship could make our jobs more enjoyable.” 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Connor,” you shook your head with a smile. 

“Shall I walk you out?” he offered, gesturing towards the lobby. 

But instead of answering him, you took a step forward, your heels clicking against the concrete floors as you left a gentle kiss on his cheek, your lips lingering before you pulled away. Blue became red, then yellow, and then back to red as Connor’s LED blinked out of control. 

“That won’t be necessary. I can make it out on my own, but thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome, ____,” he replied, barely gathering himself as he watched you head into the night. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the kudos and lovely comments! Writing this has been so fun so far and I hope you guys enjoy this next bit. Things heat up just a smidge. ;)

_28 Days Ago_

“You’ll be reporting directly to me, and if you have any questions,” said Captain Fowler. “Go bother Connor about it. His desk is right behind Lieutenant Anderson’s.” 

If you were being perfectly honest, you had completely forgotten the huge list of duties that were just briefed to you. You had never had this much responsibility before in your entire life and it wasn’t hitting you until this very moment. Under Captain Fowler’s stern and no-nonsense gaze, you felt like you were already in trouble and you hadn’t even clocked in an hour on the job. 

“Sorry, who’s Connor again?” you clarified with a wince, sneaking a glance through the bulletproof glass pane that opened up to the precinct’s main bullpen. 

“You’ll know when you see him, trust me,” scoffed Fowler with a roll of his eyes that thankfully didn’t seem to be directed at you. “Why don’t you get started on making those copies and bring them down to the lockup?” 

“Sure thing, Captain,” you smiled, raising your fingers in a two-fingered salute.

“Don’t salute at me. Close the door on your way out,” he told you firmly, pointing to the door. 

You nodded and apologized quickly with your head bowed down at the floor. Captain Fowler sighed and angled himself back at the massive screen to the left of his desk so that you could take it as your cue to leave. There were a few people already sitting at their desks, typing away at their terminals while others were visiting colleagues with a cup of coffee in hand. A designated space had been cleared out for your desk at the end of one of the rows of desks, right next to a few filing cabinets and the far wall of the captain’s office.

A wire basket labeled “inbox” was full of reports, autopsies, and other miscellaneous forms and documents that needed to be consolidated and photocopied before they could be submitted to Fowler. Was it too late to grab your coat and slip out forever before anyone noticed? 

“Oh my god, shut up, ____. You have to actually _do things_ at jobs, remember?” you sarcastically scolded yourself. 

You didn’t even bother sitting in your chair, pushing it back behind you to give yourself more space to stand. The sleeves on your chambray shirtdress were rolled up in an act of determination before you settled in and grabbed a handful of the stack in your inbox. 

After flipping through the first few reports to double check for any errors, you decided to make your first trip to the copy machine. The basic floor plan of the precinct wasn’t huge so you figured the copy room would be the hallway closest to you. As you approached one of the doors, about to place your hand on the scanner, the automatic door slid open to reveal an older man wearing a leather jacket that had seen about as many days as he had with a clashing patterned shirt. 

“You lost or something, kid?” he greeted, raising an eyebrow at you with his arms still crossed. 

“Sorry, I was looking for the copier?” you asked, holding up your stack of file folders. 

“The copier’s that way,” he said, pointing down the hallway lazily like his entire arm was numb. “And you might want to step back, we’re about to move a perp back to his holding cell.” 

“Yeah, of course, I’ll get out of your way,” you nodded, literally taking a few steps back just as the second set of doors slid open. 

You watched through the one-way glass as a disgruntled looking man bundled up in a heavy winter coat was dragged to his feet by a uniformed officer, muttering a slew of curses under his breath and shoving his way to the door. 

The third person in the room stood to his feet to follow after them, gathering the case files back into its corresponding folder, but you could see his hands pause to hover over what looked like photos. There was a pensive look in his eyes as he slid them off the edge of the table and into his hands and just stared in a way that you made wonder if he really _saw_ anything. That was the moment your gaze flickered downwards to the blue illuminated armband on his jacket and the spinning LED on his right temple. 

An android. 

“Traitor! You’re a traitor!” 

The loud outburst shook you out of your thoughts, making you grip the papers in your arms tighter. The perp received another uniform rushing to preemptively restrain him, but the android who was questioning him raised his hand at the officers. They exchanged a confused look, but ultimately followed this nonverbal signal. 

“No, let him say what he wants to say.” His voice was eerily calm, and you couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or taunting. 

“I have nothing else to say to a Cyberlife slave that’s willing to sell out his own people,” snarled the perp before using his shoulders to shove off the firm hands that were on his arms. “And don’t touch me. I can walk on my own.” 

The older man next to you rubbed at his greyed beard and released the breath he was holding. He let out another sigh and leaned forward on the table, pressing one of the buttons on the panel. 

“Connor?” he called out. “You ok?” 

Connor. So that was Connor. 

“I’m fine, Hank,” he said, turning towards the glass. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

If you hadn’t known that he was an android, you would have thought it was magic how he managed to look directly at the man named Hank, despite the one-way glass. Then he regarded you with curious eyes, his gaze magnetic even though his head was tilted slightly in unrecognition. 

“I need a drink,” Hank groaned as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You gonna stay in here and stare or can I lock up?” 

“Right, sorry,” you nodded, heading for the door.

“Today your first day?” he chuckled as he followed after you. 

“How could you tell?” 

Connor was waiting patiently outside the observation with his hands together behind his back. He also walked with you and Hank back to your desk, glancing down at the pile of case files you had laid out all over. 

“Because you keep apologizing for every damn thing,” Hank pointed out before offering his hand. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson.” 

“And this is my…” he paused as the two of you looked at Connor, who only smiled back in response. “This is my partner, Connor.” 

“He’s an android,” you said dumbly. 

“Yeah, he is,” snorted Hank. “Some kind of fancy prototype they sent us to help with the deviants.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” nodded Connor politely. 

“Likewise.” 

“Anyway, we better get going. And hey, chin up. The job doesn’t get any better, but at some point, you just get used to it,” said Hank, already halfway up the steps to Captain Fowler’s office. 

Connor glanced down at you and then up at Lieutenant Anderson, who was beginning a heated discussion with the captain. “Do you think…” 

Because of his height, you had to tilt your head up to look at Connor. His straight posture and presence should have made you feel small, but the troubled look in his eyes, like he hated the feeling of being lost and confused, was the great equalizer. 

“Do you think Hank was talking to me or you?” 

_Present Day_

Saturday had come and gone like a blur because you spent most of it in bed, recovering from yesterday’s hangover. Your head was pounding, your mouth and eyes were dry, and you nearly threw your phone over the balcony from the cacophony of calls, text, and notifications that were coming through when you were trying to sleep in. 

It was well into the afternoon when you finally dragged your sorry ass out of bed and cooked a greasy breakfast of bacon and eggs with a slice of toast while the news played in the background. You watched from the kitchen counter, as the leader of the androids rights movement, Markus Manfred, spoke in front of thousands, declaring that android deviancy was not something to be feared but embraced.

Instead, it was a collective regaining of conscience among androids, that ideas and concepts like free will, choice, and equality were beginning to manifest in their artificial intelligence. 

Markus thanked the crowd, made up of both humans and androids, as cheers and applause erupted throughout the packed auditorium with several rising to their seats for a standing ovation. The camera followed him as he rejoined his companions who waited in the wings of the stage, greeting their leader and friend with warm hugs and firm pats on the back. 

The future of Cyberlife, as a company, was unclear, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Detroit had seen a massive industrial boom, only to have everything stripped away, leaving its residents to bleed out. By the end of his speech, you found yourself anxiously worrying about the future: yours and less selfishly, the androids. 

Sunday was when things began to look up. Having enough of the same four walls in your loft and your own thoughts, you decided to venture into the city to run errands and window shop. Or at least, attempting to window shop and then giving into temptation as you made two splurge purchases that you told yourself you deserved. The first was a pretty cocktail dress that hugged your curves perfectly but was made out of a new synthetic fabric that felt both light and breathable. 

The second was a lipstick in a shade that you had always wanted to own, but could never justify paying for. Well, today was the day, and the sales associate showering compliments on you as you tried it on didn’t help matters either. 

You met with a few friends for dinner and drinks and managed to make it home just before the trains were scheduled to stop.

As soon as you stepped inside your modestly sized loft and kicked off your shoes, your purchases were carefully put away before you plopped yourself onto the couch to rest for a bit. As soon as you caught your breath, you dug the lipstick out of your vanity and glided it over your lips. The shade was a little darker and bolder than what you were used to and for a split second, you doubted if it really suited you. 

You nodded at yourself in the mirror before reaching into one of the drawers for your lighter and lighting the scented candle on your dresser for ambience. You slipped into your closet and quickly stripped off your clothes, tossing them almost spitefully into the hamper. You were in the middle of deciding which college t-shirt you were the least attached to when you forgot an essential part of your plans. 

“Speaker, play ‘peach’ playlist,” you called out. 

“Playing ‘peach’ playlist,” she called back, filling your space with sensual R&B. 

After an oversized, navy blue University of Michigan t shirt was pulled over your head, you all but bounded back into your room with a towel in hand. Lights were dimmed and curtains were drawn together as you sank into your bed with an eager grin. You slid open your nightstand drawer and groped around until you found your vibrator, another splurge purchase that you were never going to regret. After squeezing a healthy amount of lube on its length, you flipped the switch and laid back. 

Without a doubt, this had to be the perfect end to your weekend and the only thing that could have possibly made this better was the real thing itself. Except that was the beauty of your occasional Sunday ritual, the only person involved was you and your own desires. You usually took things slow and easy, delaying your orgasm so that you could get up close and personal with every inch of yourself. And tonight, certainly started out that way as you spread your legs and slowly guided your toy towards your crotch, the vibrations drawing adorable giggles out of you as it brushed against your tickle spots. 

You rubbed the tip of the vibrator against your sex, purposely avoiding your clit until you absolutely couldn’t stand it. There would be plenty of time to worship your clit later. Normally, you’d have your laptop next to you for some visual inspiration but you decided to forgo that little detail as you tried to dream up an imaginary lover for yourself. 

They were usually nameless and faceless, more like a shadow that loomed over or under you as you touched yourself. They were attentive but usually didn’t have much to say, which was usually how you preferred your sexual encounters. You could barely hear yourself over the music anyway as you slipped a hand under the hem of your shirt, which had already ridden up and over your hips, and grabbed one of your breasts, giving it a playful squeeze before giving your nipples some much needed attention. 

Your breathing hitched as you finally slipped the vibrator inside you, your body shuddering in delight as you slowly eased it in and out, your walls clenching tightly around it. You worked yourself into a nice rhythm, biting your lip and gasping as the vibrator brushed against your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath as the rabbit-shaped head of the toy did its sacred duty and sent beautiful jolts of pleasure through your clit. 

Your mind was beginning to wander as you reconnected with your faceless lover, imagining soft lips that kissed sweet trails along your neck, jaw, and down the middle of your chest. You wanted your wrists pinned beside your face as he gave you another searing kiss, his lips and face stained red from the color on yours. A visual reminder to match the ones he would leave on your neck and chest. It was dark in your room, but you could feel the intensity of his eyes setting your body ablaze as he entered you with a soft grunt. 

You could never, would never forget the sound of his voice and it was that delicate yet husky timbre that was the trigger. Lips met teeth as you bit down, refusing to say his name, refusing to say anything at all. 

Buttons would scatter across the floor as you tore his shirt open while he tugged his tie loose. A shuddered gasp would leave his throat as you raked your nails down his chest before wrapping your arms around him to bring him closer. Why? Why was this happening? Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? An ex boyfriend? A family friend? Or even a stranger at the bar you spared a second glance at? 

“Oh fuck me,” you groaned, both in exasperation and as a command. 

You hated this, you hated yourself, but it felt oh-so good and you were way too far gone. The sensations and vibrations had you shaking and writhing as you imagined Connor taking his sweet time with you, drawing out every euphoric sensation that he could before he became the blissful death of you. 

"Goddammit!" You growled in frustration, rolling on to your stomach and then sitting up with your knees apart so you could ride it out instead.

With a flick of your thumb, you increased the intensity on the vibrator and began to hammer it in and out of you faster, literally trying to fuck away any sappy fantasies of intimacy out of your brain. But they wouldn’t go away. You still saw Connor handling you like a precious treasure, hands roaming your body as your back was flush against his chest. Your cheek was bathed in a soft blue glow, light reflecting from his LED as he pressed a tender kiss against your temple. 

You were riding your vibrator with a furious intensity, determined to see this through to the bitter end. The toy was angled in such a way that it brushed against your g-spot every time you slid yourself down to the hilt. You muttered a slew of barely coherent yeses, spurring yourself on until you saw stars. Your pace slowed as you rode yourself through your orgasm. For the first time since middle school, you had never been more glad to be done with the deed. God what a horrifying thought. 

After cleaning yourself and your vibrator off with a packet of wet wipes that you kept nearby, you tossed the towel into the wash and buried yourself under the covers, letting your playlist lull to sleep. 

* * *

There was always something about the morning after a night of snow that never failed to piss off you and everyone else in Detroit. The news podcast you were listening to during your train ride might as well have been static noise, but you were too busy trying to finish your makeup anyway. You were already dreading every minute of your commute, and you knew you were going to dread every second of work at the precinct. 

Thankfully, you had a good night’s sleep. You always did after an orgasm. Your brain figured that you would have the rest of your life to agonize and overthink about last night's sordid fantasy. What were you thinking? Connor? Of all people? Yet you would absolutely be lying if you hadn’t thought about it. You just didn’t think you would actually be jerking off to the idea. And it wasn’t a dirty, pornographic fantasy either. It was slow, intimate. Maybe even romantic. You weren’t sure you had picked the lesser of two evils. Maybe two equally horrifying evils that were just different flavors. 

And now you were going to have to see him at work. 

“Excuse me, miss,” you heard a gentle voice call out. “Is this seat taken?” 

You removed one of your earbuds and looked up at an android who was holding hands with a little girl, the two of them bundled up in winter clothes. Her programming dictated that she was to prioritize giving her seat to her charge before finding one for herself, if available. Judging from the way the little girl was practically hiding behind her caretaker, you probably had your morning resting bitch face on. 

“No, it’s not,” you shook your head, snapping your mirror shut and shoving it back into your bag. “Here, take mine too. So you can sit together.” 

As the train began to pull away from the stop, you held on to the back of your seat as you stood up and switch places with the pair, grabbing on to one of the nearby poles. One of the hands that you were sharing the pole with attached to a man dressed in a suit, who immediately shifted closer to you. Before you could replace your earbud, he gave you a smile. 

“That was a really nice thing you did,” he said by way of greeting as his gaze was aimed downwards towards your legs. 

More specifically your shins, since that was really the only part of your body besides your face that wasn’t hidden under the layers of your coat.

"Well, I did it for you," you smirked. 

His eyes widened in surprise. Why were men so stupid sometimes? He looked twice your age, but seemed to have left his foresight back in his twenties. "Really?" 

"No." 

He didn't have much to say after your disgusted scoff, leaving you to slip your earbud back in for the rest of the sluggish ride along the tracks. The precinct was only a short walk from the station, but you quickened your pace anyway. The added time on your commute made you a few minutes behind schedule and the last thing you wanted was to fall behind because you were stuck in Captain Fowler's office, getting chewed out for being late. 

Gavin nearly dropped his coffee as you scurried into the bullpen. "Hey, ____! Just who I wanted to see," he called out after you in that voice he only used when he wanted something. 

"Ugh I swear to god…" you grumbled under your breath. 

A blue case folder was dropped into your hands with a smirk. "Fowler wants it on his desk by nine." 

You glanced down at your watch and then held the folder back out to him. "So check it yourself. You have six minutes."

"Why would I do that when it's _your_ job?" he retorted, pushing your outstretched hands back towards you. 

You let out a frustrated groan as you spun around and stomped towards your desk. Your beanie and coat were carelessly thrown over your chair while your bag was shoved into your bottom desk drawer. 

"Does that mean you'll do it?" 

"Gavin, if I took the time to explain to you why I don't want to double check your stupid paperwork, it would be well past your deadline." 

Officer Tina Chen, who happened to be leaving the break room with her daily cup of coffee, held out her hand for a high five as she walked past. You triumphantly slapped it in response before crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Seriously, ____. I'd owe you big time."

"At the rate you're going, you're going to owe me your firstborn," you sighed. "Why don't you ask Connor to do it? His reports are always perfect."

They were always perfectly formatted and contained just enough detail to be considered thorough but not verbose. But most importantly of all, they were always on time, early even. Fowler and Connor had decided that it would be for the benefit of the entire precinct, but mostly Hank, if Connor handled all of the paperwork on all of their cases moving forward. 

Gavin made a disgusted noise. "I'd rather shoot myself in the balls than ask that prick to do anything. Besides, he’s not here. He and Hank went out on a call a few minutes ago. You just missed them.” 

You scrunched your nose, equally disgusted. "Oh Gavin, bigotry is _so_ not a good look on you. Buy me a cab home and I'll do it. I don't want to deal with snow commute on the way home." 

"Done," he nodded, clapping his hands together and then pumping his fist in victory. 

"But if you misspell the same word or use the wrong word more than once, I'm gonna chuck this out the window," you threatened, holding it up and miming a hard throw towards the nearest glass panel. 

After a non-committed “yeah” from Gavin, you finally sank into your chair to start on this troublesome file, nearly knocking over a cup of coffee in the process. Right before it could spill all over your desk, you grabbed the paper cup with both hands, heaving a sigh of relief before the writing on the cup caught your eye. There was only one person who could have written them, the handwriting looking more like printed ink than pen. 

_Happy 1 Month Anniversary. Don’t drink it all at once._

_-Connor_

You couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading as you lifted the cup to your lips. And the best part of it all, the coffee was still warm. 


End file.
